Dream, Darling
by tolkienlover
Summary: Corrin loves her freedom from Nohr. But she loves Takumi more. [Takumi/Fe!Corrin] Fluff.
a/n: Ah, well, Takumi is hands-down my favorite character from the new FE:Fates (though Leo and Kaze easily find second and third place), and thus, I created this, ah, thing. Hopefully you enjoy it. It is all fluff. All of it. Apologies in advance.

I also apologize for my year-long absence. But that's a different story;)

Onto Takumi!

 **Disclaimer** **\- I don't own anything. The rights go to the respective owners of Fire Emblem: Fates. (sadly.)**

 **Spoilers for minor parts of Revelations.**

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 _Dream, Darling -_ 4453 words.

Takumi/Fe!Corrin

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For a woman of Hoshido, Corrin was particularly quiet.

Not in a way that was shy or timid, or a way that was rude or snooty, but in a way that showed she was consistently in awe of everything and anything she came across, no matter what it happened to be, and was easily overwhelmed by the simplest and most basic of things. She nearly cried when she saw sunflowers for the first time and her siblings simply had to wait for her as she knelt beside them, her eyes watery and with a hand reached out, hovering slightly over the petals as though they weren't hers to touch—even though the flowers grew just outside the palace and were _entirely_ hers to touch.

It was like she was seeing the world for the first time and, in a way, she was; Corrin had been robbed of so many beautiful things in her childhood, locked away in a tower like a forgotten treasure and left there to rot until her time came. So many chances, celebrations, friendships—so many opportunities lost and wasted because one cruel man thought she would be a beautiful, young pawn in a game that she didn't even understand.

She found that sunflowers were her favorite, the ones that grew almost to her chest in height and sprouted mostly in the summertime, vibrantly yellow and brown, green stalks and small bumblebees to accompany them. Corrin found that she loved the water in the streams, the way it sounded and the way it felt in the morning, cold and sharp, and the way the trees would greet her when she stepped out onto the grass for training, leaves blowing, rustling quietly.

There was always some sort of noise, some sort of change; it was such a change from the dusty, silent fortress that the princess was beside herself with joy, though she had sided with Hoshido months ago.

Corrin realized, really, that the walls that had locked her away were the true influence in her decision, in how she chose her birth family over the siblings who had raised her—if Garon had really cared for her, would he honestly have locked her away from so many precious things, like sunflowers and trees? She figured, at least, that a true parent would have taught her about them, or, in any case, have visited her more than twice in the twelve of her twenty-one years she had spent there, locked between the stones.

What she found most endearing—other than the sun, of which she was particularly fond of—was the freedom in interaction. The freedom to open her window, to wave to the gardening crew and Sakura in medical and Ryoma on the training grounds. She loved the capability to go where she pleased, to eat what she wanted, to talk to whomever she pleased at whatever time and be completely without punishment for it; it was like a dream and, Corrin agreed, that if it was a dream, she never really wanted to wake up.

She missed her Nohrian siblings, of course. If there was one thing she could change, it would be that; she missed Elise's laugh or Camilla's smile or Leo's bedhead. But then Sakura would fall asleep on her lap, or Ryoma would let her win in a sparring match, and she would remember that she was doing this for them—for _all_ of them. Corrin was trying to free them all, like she had been freed from her prison.

Her Hoshido siblings had been nothing but welcoming and kind—that is, besides Takumi.

The youngest Hoshidan prince was the hardest to explain, the hardest to predict; he was nearly as naïve as Corrin was, his spirit just as strong, and was intent on having things his way, one way or another. He was, however, the most loyal man Corrin had ever met, and he was more protective of the ones he loved than anything. It was for that he earned Corrin's utmost respect.

But then things got stranger.

He claimed to hate her, to not trust her—and then he was smiling at her like the dork he was, his hair a messy stack of bedhead, mussed and pulled from his constant fidgeting with it, and his eyes were so bright, they could have been the stars themselves. Then he was back to hating her again, but his cheeks still flushed when she was around and his eyes still darted to see her, even if he didn't know she was looking. Takumi made no sense, and perhaps, if Corrin had grown up outside of the castle she did, she would have recognized the signs as more than just a curious brother and found them to be the signs of an interested man.

Sakura was the one who pointed it out, unsurprisingly enough as Corrin had grown undoubtedly the closest to the youngest princess, much to Hinoka's dismay, and at first, Corrin had refused to believe her, that she was crazy, that there was absolutely no way that her _brother_ could be in _love_ with her. It was…wrong, she had said, and in so many ways.

Her sister had turned red at this, but her lips had pursed and her eyes had darted away and Corrin immediately knew she was missing something.

She found that _missing something_ when Takumi kissed her beneath an apple tree outside the palace.

He hadn't meant to—not at first. Corrin had been apologizing, her hand behind her head, lip between her teeth, and Takumi had just leant in and caught her up in himself, his arms around her waist, mouth slanted down across hers. And if it had been anyone but Takumi, Corrin would have pushed away; but it was Takumi and instead, she had grabbed the fur around his coat and pulled him closer, hands snagged in his hair, balanced slightly on her toes to hold him there.

When she finally pulled away, her eyes widened in surprise, Takumi had explained that they weren't really siblings, not in a way that made them related by blood and made what they had just shared anything stranger than a slightly unexpected kiss. Her father wasn't the past King of Hoshido, and in that respect, they were step-siblings, a slightly less strange relation that made his love for her more legal than it may have been as his older sister. By blood, at least.

Corrin had stared. She stared and blinked and then took a deep breath before leaning to kiss him again.

And since then, she hadn't seen a day without him.

He met her at her door each morning, or in the garden, or at the breakfast hall, and he walked her to her room each night, his hands finding a place across her face as he kissed her softly, like she was delicate, like she might break if he held too hard. Takumi was so unbelievably careful and it made her laugh. But it also made her love him more.

And that was where he left her, drowning in her love for him and the strange, but unknown desire that curled in her stomach whenever she saw him leaning against her doorframe, his crooked smile shadowed across his face and his messy hair pulled up behind his head, falling in strands down his back.

Corrin sat by the stream, the one that led straight into the palace, if one walked a straight shot into the front road and then down past the cherry blossoms that bloomed in late spring. It was midmorning and the sun was rising slowly, halfway across the sky, and not yet in the middle. It warmed her still, though; the sunlight against her skin was something she had missed out on in her childhood of stone and now, she nearly refused to stay inside. It was all her siblings could do to force her to _sleep_ inside.

The stream was alive, the water babbling, the fish bouncing and paddling, a few birds in the tree branches overhead, tweeting away like there wasn't a war going on outside the guards that stood within shouting range of the princess that sat beside the water. Azura had taught her the ways of the water, which way it carried at the bends and how the turtles found shelter on the rocks a little bit before noon. They were lounged out across the stones now and Corrin smiled at such a simple act of happiness. The sun was all they needed to be content.

She figured she must have been a turtle in her past life.

A steel sword hung at her waist— _simply a precaution_ , Ryoma had explained as he handed her the blade for the morning—as she refused to bring Yato into a place of such quiet and peace. She did have a dagger tucked into her boot, but that was beside the point.

Corrin may have stayed there for the entirety of the day if he hadn't shown up, a little past noon, his archer's feet still not quiet enough to not give him away to her. His boots crunched the fallen leaves as he came and she giggled into her hand at his attempt to be sneaky.

Takumi sat down beside her and propped his leg up, his elbow slinging out over it—his arms were impossibly long, and his fingers and his legs; he was gangly and all arms and legs without knowing it, the dork, his tilted smile appearing onto his face as she turned to face him. His face was bright.

"Good morning," he said, and his voice was soft, like he was speaking to a kitten, delicate and bright.

"And to you," Corrin said softly, and she nodded at him before returning to look back out over the stream. The turtles had moved on to a shadier domain, as the sun was now reflecting off of all the water, the beams dancing into shadows beneath the currents of the waves. Water flora appeared to be stretching to reach the light and their stalks drifted silently in the breeze.

"You left early this morning." Takumi reached to pull up a handful of grass between his gloved fingers, his oddly shaped gloves that covered his palm, but not his fingers—fingerless gloves, in a way, to which Corrin had questioned and he had shrugged her off and replied simply with, "It's an archer thing".

"The sun rises earlier now."

"That doesn't mean you have to."

Corrin gave him a sidelong glance, an eyebrow raised.

He laughed. "I know, I know. Wrong answer." The grass between his hold went blowing as he let it free, one piece at a time, softly and then all at once. It snagged on Corrin's boot. "Did you eat something?"

She nodded once.

And then it was quiet again, but never quite silent, the water bubbling up, the leaves rattling and rustling, Takumi's breathing, soft, quiet, and gentle.

Corrin snuck a glance at him as he pulled his knees to his chest, his head resting atop his knees like a pedestal, eyes flitting around the forest. His hair was pulled back as always and he was playing with it absentmindedly, his fingers pulling through the tips of it with unresolved tugs. He had lost his heavy, fur coat for a lighter tunic today, a mildly warmer summer day; a dark tunic had taken its place, his white vest still pulled over the top.

He caught her staring out of the corner of his eye and smirked. "Can't help but to look, Cor?"

She smacked his shoulder and he laughed again.

They were just about to settle into another piece of quiet when she looked over at him again.

"Takumi?"

"Mhm?"

"What does your hair look like when it's let down?"

Takumi looked at her immediately, his eyes blown a bit wide, but an entertained expression on his face nonetheless. He paused his playing with his hair to sit up straight, shifting so he could face her, and then stretched out his legs to lean back on his hands. "I'd imagine it looks a bit like yours."

Corrin's hair fell to the small of her back as she was never allowed to cut it in Nohr; she just hadn't bothered since her time in Hoshido. She sighed, a bit in exasperation.

"But you _know_ what it looks like."

"That I do."

"Then why won't you tell me?"

"Where's the fun in that?"

"You're impossible," she huffed, crossing her arms, though a smile had crept unto her face, unwillingly, if she might add.

"I'm actually Takumi," he corrected, and his smirk widened into a full-on grin when Corrin stuck her tongue out at him, her face lit up in a way that only he could give her. "But Milord, My Lord, and Lord Exceptional are also acceptable."

"Perhaps Lord "Pain in the Ass" is more appropriate."

"Actually that sounds more _in_ appropriate…"

" _Takumi_!"

Both royals burst into a fit of laughter, Corrin leaning into him as he slung an arm over her shoulder and pulled her to him. There were hints of tears in her eyes as she giggled into the side of his chest and she pulled herself closer to him, breathing in the scent of him, of mint leaves and soap.

When they had quieted down, his arm remained pulled around her shoulders, holding her to him. She stayed silent for a moment, listening to the sound of his heart, until her curiosity arose once more.

"But really," she pressed, her face turning up as she pulled away slightly to look him in the eye. "What does it look like?"

He huffed into her hair, his nose pressed heavily there, into the crown of her head, and then sighed. "You're not going to give up, are you?"

"Certainly not."

"Then I suppose I'm left without a choice," he said and he pushed away from her a bit, just enough to scoot to the right and reach his hands around his head. His slim fingers went to the red tie in his hair, deftly reaching for the knot that held his hair up and together, and he smiled at her, a small one, hesitant and just a bit unsure.

Corrin realized it was quite silly to hold her breath, but she did it anyways.

The ribbon came undone between his fingertips, and then another ribbon that was beneath it, and as soon as he pulled away, Takumi's hair fell in waves around his face, dropping down from its heightened state to lie in tumbled, straight lengths of light.

Corrin may have laughed at the fact that his hair required two ribbons if she wasn't so entranced by the way it caught the sunlight.

His hair had always been more of a silver than a blonde, but it was almost lavender in the way the sun was gleaming, tumbling over his back and pooling in the grass beneath them. Takumi had to press a handful of it behind his ear to see her and it made Corrin's heart sputter, her mouth pursed, her thoughts caught up in a decision of whether he was adorable or if he was downright beautiful.

"You're staring," he said, but if it was smugly, Corrin didn't catch it.

"Yeah," she breathed, and she couldn't help but to reach out to run her hands through it. He obviously took good care of himself, the shimmer in the length of his hair giving him away, and Corrin nearly smiled at how soft he kept it, like silk, only it smelled more like Takumi, like mint and soap and trees. "This isn't fair, Takumi."

"Oh?

"Your hair is prettier than mine. That's not how this is supposed to work."

"You're the reason I've kept it so long," he admitted, and his mouth turned up slightly, his eyes caught on the sight of her face. "So really, you're the only one to blame."

Corrin gaped at him. "What? _Me_?"

"Before Nohr took you," he said quietly. "I remember. You used to brush my hair out with a little comb that Mother had given you and hum a song in my ear before bed every night. I wouldn't let anyone else brush it because you always did it the softest, and when Mother offered to cut it, you stepped in and told me it was too pretty to cut. So I didn't." He shrugged. "Haven't since."

"For twelve _years?"_ Corrin ran her hands across the strands again, her fingers gliding through without pull. She resisted the urge to comb through it, and it felt like she had done it before. Yet another memory she had been robbed of.

Quietly she pulled away, tucking herself together as she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. Her sword thumped against the side of her leg as she shifted.

Takumi looked at her, confused, his eyebrows raised, and then held open both his arms, like he always did when he wished for her to be near to him—vulnerably, his hands turned at an unsure angle, his uncertainty quite clearly the best part of it all.

It was so hard when he asked her like that, with childish uncertainty and widened eyes and flushed cheeks, to refuse, and perhaps she wouldn't have turned her head if there wasn't something so unimaginably beautiful about the boy that she loved. It made her heart hurt, the way he loved her so foolishly, so wholeheartedly and completely.

"Corrin?" he whispered, but she kept her eyes on the water, ever moving, never stopping in one place. The sun had moved so that the shadows danced in the grass now, like little dancers, darkened grey against the bright green and the long-faded dew.

"That's just another thing I'll never remember, isn't it?" she said, and her voice was broken, like waves on a shore, soft, but rapid and persistent. Determined. "Another memory that's mine, but I can't have. It's a reminder of those stone walls, of the gates and the fences and the guards." Corrin shook her head, her teeth clenched. "More reminders that I missed _so_ much in a place I thought was home."

"But you're here now," Takumi countered. "You're here now and you won't miss anything else, not ever again, Cor. We'll protect you here."

"And that's just the thing," she told him quietly, her hands wringing together as she glanced to him. He was watching her with guarded eyes, his mouth drawn down, lip between his teeth. "Takumi, I used to think that place was the whole world. That dark rooms and empty hallways were how things were supposed to be, that I wasn't well enough for friends or visitors or a family that stayed with me for longer than a few days." Corrin let her arms fall. "Life was always locked doors and broken promises. It was always lies, always goodbyes and lonely nights and talking to the moon. And now…"

She grit her teeth, setting her jaw in place, right before she crumpled.

Tears were warm on her skin, nearly as warm as the sun that shone brightly overhead was, and she tried desperately to wipe them away with the back of her hand, but Takumi beat her to it.

He wasn't hesitant this time, he didn't wait for her to come to him, but he came to her, his arms taking her in, wrapping tightly around her waist and pulling her to his chest like a doll, pressing his face into her hair. Takumi hushed her. " _Shhhh_ , darling, _don't cry._ "

She might have laughed at the slight panic in his voice if she wasn't wrapped up in his chest, her mouth caught against the warm skin of his neck. Corrin pressed her face further against his collarbone, her nose skimming across the knot in his throat.

"It's unreal," she sobbed, and her hands drew close to her chest. "You can't be real, this can't be real—"

Takumi paused, his hands freezing where they had been soothing across her back. Slowly, he moved one hand to curl around her head, pulling her back slightly so he could see her, so her eyes could see his. He gave her an uncertain smile, like he was surprised. His fingers, rough from the bow and calloused from the string, stroked circles across her cheek as he looked at her. "Is that what you're worried about? That this is a _dream_?"

She hiccupped. "Yes." Corrin's voice was small.

"Cor," he murmured, his voice low and careful and gentle. "You're not dreaming. The sunflowers and the river and Hinoka and Sakura and Ryoma—They're all real. We're all real. And we won't leave you again," he added, shaking his hair out of his eyes. "Not again, not ever, Corrin. It never should have happened in the first place, damn Nohrians and their cruelty."

Corrin bit her lip, but her tears slowed, her eyes caught in the shade of gold Takumi's eyes were with the fading light in the trees.

Takumi sighed before brushing a piece of her hair from her face, running a hand down her cheek and smiling at her, softly, like he had before. "I won't leave you, little princess," he promised. "Never again."

"That's not what I'm worried about," she pointed out, her voice still unsteady. "I'm scared that I'll wake up, that you won't have a choice, that you'll just disappear—"

" _Corrin,_ " he said, "This is _not_ a dream." He looked as if he was going to say more, but his eyes lit up suddenly and he nodded to himself, as he always did when he found acceptance in one of his ideas. "I'll show you," he claimed suddenly, shifting so Corrin was nestled in the center of his lap.

He then put both hands on her face, one cradling her cheek and the other tilting her chin, before he claimed her mouth as his. Takumi pressed softly, his lower lip caught between both of her softer ones, and then moved on, pulling her closer, holding her closer until she couldn't have been nearer to him without being a part of him. His mouth parted and then closed and then parted again; her words were lost to his kisses and his breath became hers, and her hands trailed up his chest to find niches in the side of his face, the curls at the nape of his neck to take hold of, and she pulled herself up to him.

She breathed him in as if she would otherwise drown, while he took her kisses as pure, sweet air, as if he was flying and she was keeping him afloat. Takumi kissed her until he couldn't any longer, his breath lost, panting—his mouth only moved to press softer kisses to her nose, her cupid's bow, her chin; he pressed kisses to every moving part of her face he could find, the corners of her mouth, of her eyes, the laugh lines in her cheeks: all lost to the light presses of his lips to her skin. Everywhere and anywhere, soothing, like a drug.

Corrin knew what he had been trying to do and it worked; as much as she hated it, the way he could control her like that, the way he had such an effect on her, Takumi slowed her fear, the quaking ache that was left by the cracks in her heart, the broken pieces of a missing childhood.

The youngest prince of Hoshido, however, looked as though he had just won a hundred battles, his smile radiant, his mouth slightly red, but his eyes much brighter than she had seen them in days. "No offense, darling," Takumi said lightly, "but I don't think you could have dreamed _that_ up."

And of course, Corrin had to laugh. "You may be right," she admitted, mumbling into his skin as she pressed a kiss to his chin. "Damn it. I hate it when you're right."

"So…all the time?"

" _Takumi_ ," she said, but her face was dried of tears, while her mouth had a rounded smile threatening to return. "I—I'm sorry."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said. "That is what I'm for, you know."

"To hold me when I cry?"

"I was referring to the kissing, but I suppose that's acceptable, too." He grinned at her and she smiled, a real one, her fear all but a thrum beneath her skin, forgotten for now—at least until she fell asleep. "I'm great at either."

"That's true." She gave him that much, at least.

He seemed content with that.

And then Takumi held her close again, her head tucked under his chin, and they sat and listened to the sounds of the forest and the water and watched the shadows that came from the sun moving past the clouds, watched as the shapes changed and the clouds left temporary imprints in the free grass.

"Kumi?" Corrin said, and her voice was small again, like a child, soft and quiet and curious.

"Mhm?"

"I love you."

"Ah, well," Takumi mumbled, and he ducked his head to press a kiss to her forehead. She felt the blush burning against his cheeks, the blood rushing across his neck. "And I you, Corrin."

"Can we stay here awhile longer?"

"I suppose." He glanced down at her, the princess with her arms held tightly to her chest, and smiled wistfully at the way her cheek was pressed up against his chest, the way it made her seem so young and gentle, like he could hold her here and keep her from the troubles that she so frequently had to bear. Takumi ran his hand across her hair, his thumb pressing circles across her skin. He smiled. "Whatever you want, darling."

She fell asleep in his arms, the sound of his heart a lullaby that kept the fear at bay, and slept soundly for longer than she had in weeks.

Takumi couldn't find it in him to move her.


End file.
